


The painted rose

by betabee



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Curse, F/M, Non-magical AU, Tattoos, tattoo artist!Gold
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4765682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betabee/pseuds/betabee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Gold is a tattoo artist, and Belle is slowly getting obsessed with covering her skin in roses. Which may or may not have something to do with a certain gentleman responsible for inking them...<br/>Inspired by this post on tumblr: http://hedwighood.tumblr.com/post/128724627170/evilsnowswan-spyrale-inked-belle-the</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Zero

“Ruuuubbbyyyyy…” She called across the diner, an iced tea in hand as she perched on the stall. She took a sip as her friend sashayed between tables to stand behind the counter, looking around to check that her grandmother was otherwise occupied (and she was, sitting in a corner talking to Marco; they would be oblivious for a while, by the looks of it).

“Yeeessss, Belle? What wonderful thought has dragged you out of your books long enough to require my expertise? Is it…” She paused, and whispered for dramatic effect, “a Boy?”

Belle smirked, and let out a snort. “No.”

Ruby’s face dropped for a moment in mock sorrow. “You’re no fun, sweetie. What are you, twenty-two already? And the only guy there’s been is Gaston and he was a certifiable Jerk.” She sighed, then her face perked up again, and she leaned in with interest, eyes sparkling. “So? If it’s not a Boy, what is it?”

Belle’s courage almost left her, but she steeled herself. This was Ruby, she was cool with anything.

“Um… Well, Rubes, I was thinking… I think I want to get a tattoo, um… and I wanted a bit of advice as to where to get one…”

“Well, don’t go for your ribs. It hurts like a bitch.” Ruby deadpanned.

Belle gave a mock gasp, and hit her friend’s arm lightly. “Language, Rubes!” she chuckled. “You’re taking this remarkably well.” The words seemed to flow a lot easier off her tongue now she had broached the subject. “I meant which artist, darling. I’ve already decided what to get and where.”

“Ooh, what are you thinking of?” Ruby propped her chin up with a hand, elbows gracing the counter.

“Uh uh! That’s a surprise!” She wagged a finger.

“Fine.” Ruby pouted, the red of her lipstick shining in the afternoon sunlight (and causing a certain psychologist entering the diner to promptly drop his briefcase). “But you’ll show me once you’ve got it done, right?”

Belle nodded. “But I need to know where to go first, Rubes. You’ve got a few; where is the best? Where should I go?”

“Well, I’ll give you reviews if- and only if- you solemnly swear to not tell my grandmother about the extent of my tattoo collection.”

“Only if you swear to not tell my dad.”

She nodded. “Pinkie swear?”

“Pinkie swear.” They each reached a hand across the counter, repeating the secret handshake they had perfected in middle school together.

“So, I’ve gotten four in all; The neck one and the ankle one were in Boston, at university; but you don’t want to travel out that far, I take it?” Ruby looked at her friend questioningly before she continued.

“Not a chance in hell, darling- the council doesn’t pay me that much to keep the library running, you know.” She levelled her friend a look, who gave an understanding nod before continuing.

“The one on the ribs was done by Jefferson Hatter; his place is out in the woods, but I wouldn’t go there. His work is quite shoddy, he doesn’t keep the most hygienic of practices, and kept trying to persuade me to get a white rabbit instead of a wolf like I wanted.” She tutted for a moment before continuing. “My last one, this one-” she cuts off to point at the delicate red wolf gracing her right forearm- “Was by Mr Gold. You know, the shop on Main Street?” Belle nodded in confirmation; she had walked past his shop every day for the last two years on the way to the library and back, gazing at the intricate designs in the window of timepieces and vintage dresses and flowers with swirling patterns around them; it was what had inspired her to decide to get a tattoo in the first place.

“Is he any good at them?” She asked Ruby with interest.

She recieved a nod in reply. “He’s efficient, and has a steady hand. He costs an arm and a leg, but it’s worth it, assuming you can put up with him for long enough.”

“’Put up’ with him?”

“Weeell… he’s not the most agreeable of guys… He owns most places around town, the parlor’s a side-business, and he’s likely to snap at you for the simplest of things. That, and he’s very picky on who he will give tattoos to and where. He chucked Gaston out on his arse one time he went and asked for another of his bloody tribal markings.”

Hmm… Belle pondered her options for a few minutes. She clearly had two options- shoddy work but a more pleasant experience (she knew Jefferson; he visited her library quite regularly on his little daughter’s behalf, determined to turn her into a little bookworm) or a better end result after a few hours with the town monster.

She knew what she wanted; she also had done considerable research on her laptop at home before even approaching Ruby. She really didn’t want to have to go through removing tattoos if she could avoid it- it sounded even more painful and expensive than getting them in the first place, and she couldn’t really afford it on her salary. Maybe a few hours with Mr Gold would be the lesser of two evils, she thought with a resigned sigh.

“I guess I’ll give Gold a try, then…” she said, Ruby giving a reassuring nod.

“I could always go with you when you do get it done, if you like? I can ask Granny for a day off…”

She waved Ruby off with a gesturing hand. “It’s okay. I know you’re trying to save up, darling. Don’t waste your precious holiday on me.” She leaned closer, cupping her hands to almost whisper, “Besides, you really want to use your day off to get a date with a certain psychologist whose name may or may not begin with A-”

“Oh, stop it, you!” Ruby swatted her arm, leaning away from Belle and glancing across at the psychologist seated across the room with a blush, before moving around the counter to pick up more orders from the customers as Belle finished her tea.

 

****

 

It took her three days to gather the courage to enter the parlor, abandoning her usual lunchtime routine to cross the street and walk to the small shop on the corner.

The bell gave a pleasant jingle as she stepped inside; the front room was empty as she entered, and she looked around. More pictures adorned the stark white walls, bursts of colour in monochrome frames, all of intricate design. A counter stood in the corner near the bead curtain leading to the back room (where, presumably, the inking was done) with a book laid on top and two chairs standing in front of it, both in a fetching steel finish.

Her head jerked up as the curtain rattled. She didn’t expect a suit; her mental image of the tattoo artist she had never met might have included a tank top, a heavy build, maybe with a beard and sunglasses, a beanie sitting lopsided on his head and tattoos swirling up his arms. The thin man before her eyes defied those expectations, however. He was very well dressed, the red handkerchief in his pocket and elegantly-knotted tie matching and adding an accent of colour to his otherwise monochrome suit, a businessman down to the shine of his shoes; the only thing making him stand out from an office in New York being the brown hair streaked with grey falling about his shoulders. He strode over to the other side of the counter, before his greeting startled her out of her musings.

“I take it you’ve finally made your mind up?” he asked in a somewhat amused voice.

She did a double take. “How…?”

He gestured to the windows, looking out into the rainy street. “You’ve been walking past that window for two years and staring in for the last six months. You don’t owe me any money, so there’s no other reason you’d grace the inside of this shop with your presence unless you wanted some work done. Am I correct, Miss French?” He gave her a questioning look, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Yeah… my friend Ruby said you were good…” He raised an eyebrow at the mention of the waitress, but gave a nod of understanding, gesturing for her to take a seat.

“Very well, dearie. Now, is this your first time getting a tattoo?”

She gave a nod. “I’ve done some research, though. I’ve got a good idea of what I want.” She reached into her handbag, pulling out a small black and white printout of the design she had, after a bit of searching, found on the internet, painstakingly printed a couple of days ago; a black rose, small with flowing lines depicting petals and leaves. She pushed it across the table, and he inspected it thoughtfully.

“This shouldn’t be too difficult to reproduce. It’s simple, elegant. A good choice for a first time.” He gave a small smile for a moment, as if without realising it, before returning his attention to her. “Have you given any thought as to where you want it?”

She paused. It occurred to her, suddenly, that this man would have his hands on wherever she suggested, possibly for several hours, depending on how long this took. The thought didn’t exactly fill her with dread, though, as she gazed absent-mindedly at the long fingers still curled around the paper.

“Um… I was thinking the back of my neck? Um, about here?” She turned and lifted her brown curls, tapping at the base of her skull, the middle of her back, before turning around again. “That way it’d be hidden by my hair when I need it to be… I don’t exactly want my dad finding out about this just yet.”

He gave a shake of his head. “The back of the neck and spine are quite bony, so the process will hurt a lot more, which isn’t a good idea if you’re not experienced at this. You’d also not be able to put your hair up if you want to keep it hidden. There are also problems with it healing up- tell me, what side do you sleep on, Miss French?”

“My back, but I don’t see why that’s relevant. And it’s Belle, not Miss French.” She answered.

“Think about it, _Miss French_. The first night after you have the tattoo inked, the back of your neck will be sore and sensitive to the touch. The very brush of your hair will cause pain, and lying on your back will cause even more. Do you understand why it’s not a good idea?”

She nodded, her face reddening a bit. He had a point.

“If you want to keep this hidden, I’d recommend the ankle as a good place for this. It’s easily hidden by socks or tights, even trousers depending on how high you want it; the ankle will be less painful, which is good if it’s your first one, and you’re less likely to disturb it while the skin is healing if you’re careful. How does that sound?” He returned his gaze to her, his brown eyes surprisingly friendly.

She gave a nod. “Yeah, okay. Um… which one?”

“Pick an ankle, dearie.” He gestured. “I don’t mind.”

“Erm… right ankle, I guess?”

“Okay.” He grabbed for the book on the table, opening it and producing a pen from nowhere. “Now, shall we set you up an appointment? When are you free next week?”

“Next week?”

He gave her a look. “It’s my policy with first-timers. You need the time to make sure this is what you want, dearie. There’s no going back.”

She gave a sigh. She’d wanted to get it all out the way sooner, while she had the bravery, but guessed another week wouldn’t hurt. “Okay, then. I’ve got next Wednesday afternoon off, would that be okay?”

He ran his finger down a page, before nodding. “I can do 1pm on Wednesday.” He scribbled, before producing a card and writing her appointment time and date on it, presenting it to her with a flourish. “I’ll keep the design you’ve provided- I’ll need to practice a little beforehand, it makes the whole process go a lot smoother. Given it’s a single colour I’m inking it shouldn’t cost more than 50 or 60 dollars.”

She gave a nod. “Great! Thankyou.” She beamed at him as she stood, before making her way to the door. He somehow made it across the room before her, opening it so she could walk out into the rainy street.

“I’ll see you next Wednesday then, Miss French.” He held the door open.

“See you, then. And it’s _Belle_.” She replied with emphasis, before strolling out into the rain.


	2. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Belle takes the plunge and acquires her first tattoo... along with a desire to get closer to the local tattoo artist...

The week before her appointment was strange, to say the least. She had thought she would be more preoccupied with getting the tattoo, but that part of it hardly crossed her mind. She had been quite sure about the design she wanted, and was actually quite relieved at the advice she’d gotten at the parlor. She didn’t want it to hurt too much.

Instead, as she spent the week shelving books and pottering around the library, her mind kept coming back to the tattoo artist, to deep brown eyes and slim fingers and flowing hair she would like to card her fingers through-

She paused, frozen, halfway to putting another copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ back on the shelf, as the realisation struck her. Did she have… a _crush_ on Mr Gold? She’d only met the man once, for god’s sake!

She was strangely subdued for the rest of the week, so much so that Ruby commented on it when she was in the diner again the day before her appointment.

“Sweetie, you’ve been out of your head all week. What gives? Is it the tattoo thing? You don’t have to do it if you’re not 110% sure about it, you know.”

“I… It’s not that, Rubes. I’m sure.”

Ruby leveled her a look, the look she leveled all her girlfriends when they got in moods like this, but Belle returned it with a steely glare.

“Rubes, I’m not sure what’s up yet. I need more time to right it in my head, and I won’t tell you shit until I know what I’m feeling. Capiche?”

Ruby gave a sigh, but left Belle to her uncomfortable musings at the counter.

He just seemed… so _different_ to how people had described him. Several of the townsfolk lived in buildings he owned; he donated considerable sums of money to the town council; he kept to all his rental agreements to the letter (to the annoyance of several people around town, especially the mayor) and was rumoured to be a former businessman from wall street. No-one in their right mind went to speak to him about anything other than rent or tattoos (and no-one had any idea where he’d picked _that_ skill up).

The man she had met, however, was nothing like the monster people imagined. He was a bit gruff, sure, but friendly and helpful, giving good advice and acting like the perfect gentleman. He had a sharp mind, too.

Wednesday rolled around alarmingly fast, and all too soon she was closing up the library after eating the few bites of her sandwich that she could stomach (her stomach was strangely fluttery; it had been fluttery all week). She walked across the street (today it was quite sunny, a marked change from the week before, but she was wearing trousers today anyway) and into the tattoo parlor with a little trepidation.

He was waiting, casually leaning on the counter, suit as impeccable as the last time, but with a blue tie and handkerchief instead. He didn’t react greatly to her entrance, looking intently at the contents of the book on his counter and scribbling with a pen.

“Good to see you again, Miss French.” He said after finishing writing, capping the fountain pen and placing it in the fold of the notebook on the counter. “I trust you’re not having too much cold feet over this?” He looked up, examining her face carefully, as if she were about to turn and bolt out of the building any second.

“I’m sure. I wouldn’t be here otherwise, would I?” She said, and with a brief smile, he ushered her through to the back room, entering behind her.

This room was clean and sterile, but classy all the same; the monochrome theme didn’t extend to this room, with a dark wooden floor and white walls covered in more designs in monochrome frames like the other room. There was a large padded chair sitting in the centre of the room, a footstool and various instruments which must have been for tattooing arranged neatly on a trolley by its side, and a simple stool next to all of these.

Mr Gold gestured to the padded seat with a hand.

“Please; take a seat while I hang up my jacket.”

She made her way across the room to the padded chair, stopping before she sat down, looking at the ballet shoes she was currently wearing for a moment before toeing them off and sitting down. After he hung his jacket up and rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt, Gold came over to sit on the stool, depositing his cane to hang over the edge of the trolley at his side.

He held out a hand expectantly, and it took her a moment to realise that she would need to give him her ankle. She shifted back in her chair, lifting her foot into his hand gingerly.

He helped steady her as she rotated to allow him access to her ankle, laying it in his lap as he rolled the leg of her jeans up. His hands were calloused and rough, but warm against her ankle and calf as he adjusted her leg until he had clear access to the site he wanted to work on.

“Before we start, I’m going to clean and shave the area before applying the stencil, so you can have a look at what it’s going to look like before I start tattooing. Okay?” His deep brown eyes stared into hers, searching for any sign of discomfort, but she nodded to indicate he should continue.

She jerked slightly when the cold cloth damp with water hit her ankle, and again when he ran a razor over the area, catching a stray hair here and there, despite the fact she shaved earlier that day. Another cold liquid was splashed onto another cloth and dragged over the area, but she managed not to flinch that time, and he gave her a small smile as he patted the area dry and picked up the stencil, the black shapes of the rose she had shown him clearly visible.

“Now, I was thinking of positioning it here…” He moved the stencil to atop her ankle, curving around the bony part to cover the fleshy part near her heel. He rubbed the stencil on before releasing her foot and helping her cross the room to the full-length mirror in the corner. She turned her foot this way and that, examining it with interest. The stencilled outline was a lot paler than the design, but elegantly curved across the side of her foot.

“Well? Does it suit?” he asked after she had been examining it in the mirror for a few seconds, his hand still comfortingly supporting her elbow.

“It’s beautiful.” She said, turning to smile at him.

“Are you absolutely sure you want it there? I have more stencils of the design if you want to see what it might look like elsewhere…”

She shook her head at his quiet, uncertain words. “I’m quite happy with it where it is now- I’d quite like to get the process started now, if that’s alright- before I lose my nerve.” She flashed another hesitant smile at him, which he returned.

“Sure. Back to the chair, then.” He helped her hop back over to the padded chair, the wooden floor smooth and warm under her feet, and soon enough she was laying back in the chair again, her stencilled ankle cradled in his lap, the wool of his trousers tickling lightly at the other side of her foot.

He reached across to the trolley to pick up the handheld part of the machine, pulling it across and holding it above the stencil, the black ink visible in the seethrough parts.

“I’m just going to start with outlining it, with a small line. You’re to tell me if you’re in any significant amounts of pain at any point, and I will stop. Okay? Are you ready?”

She nodded, and he watched her for another few seconds for any signs of changing her mind; then, the needle descended.

It felt like a knife slicing through the delicate skin of her ankle; a sharp, stabbing pain, repeated as the needle came out and descended again next to where it first went in. She just managed to stop herself from flinching, stop her foot from moving. As he continued, tracing out the first line, it wasn’t exactly pain she felt; a sting that wasn’t pleasant but wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, leaving a niggling feeling to echo through her ankle and up her leg.

He paused after the first curved line of the outline was complete, a harsh black line curving next to her heel with a bead of blood welling up from where the needle last left her skin. He put the machine down and dabbed at the drop of blood and excess ink with a paper towel.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he did so.

“I’m fine.” She replied, giving him a reassuring smile as he watched her face.

He seemed happy with her response. “You’re doing well for a first-timer.” He replied, reaching for the machine again to start on another line. “How does it feel?”

“A bit sting-y, but not too bad.” She replied, and a brief look of admiration flashed across his face before he focussed on her ankle again and started on another of the swirling lines of outline.

He continued in this manner for a while; tattoo a line, wipe away the leftover ink and odd droplets of blood, ask her how she was faring, repeat. The repetative motions he made were soothing, the hum of the machine gentle as he worked. She felt she could have watched him work on her ankle the whole day, if it weren’t for the gentle, steady increase in the burning sensation in her ankle. It remained relatively gentle while he was outlining the design, but when he switched to the other machine for filling in the design (a somewhat heftier beast with five needles instead of one) the gentle sting changed to a blaze sweeping through her ankle, vibrating up her leg. The cool hand supporting her foot and keeping it still was a welcome relief.

After what seemed like both an eternity and no time at all, the hum of the machine cut off. She blinked and looked at Mr Gold, who was now putting the second machine back on the trolley and reaching for the bottle of liquid and the cloth again. It stung this time; a hiss escaped from between her teeth, and the cloth came away covered in ink and blood. Deftly, he wrapped a section of clingfilm around her ankle, taping it in place at the top and bottom and on the opposite side of her foot before releasing her ankle from his lap once more.

“There you go. All done.” He gave her a brief smile, but then looked down at the shoes she had brought along. “You should be okay with those shoes for today, but maybe stay away from wearing socks or boots until your ankle is healed. Keep the clingfilm on for at least 24 hours to protect it, and clean the area gently with water once you take it off. Have you got some cream to keep it moisturised while it’s healing?”

Belle nodded as she swung her feet off the chair and slipped her shoes on. Ruby had given her a bottle of her favourite moisturiser the day before, a hefty tub slipped into her bag and now waiting on her vanity table in her room at home.

She walked slowly, gingerly, as she followed Gold back through to the front room of the tattoo parlor. Her ankle still felt like it was gently burning, but it wasn’t as bad as she had feared it would be, and now she had a delicate rose twined around near her heel.

She handed over the amount of money he stated with hardly a word, but he caught her elbow before she left.

“I was wondering… are there any good books in the library on tattoo designs? Would I be able to come along to have a look, see if I can find any inspiration? I’m always looking for things to inspire new designs to offer to my customers.” He seemed hesitant, nervous, but a hopeful light glittered in his eyes.

“We’re open every weekday. You’re welcome to come over and I’ll help you search for something.” Belle replied, a smile sneaking across her face. Gold seemed a lot different from the man who had been described to her; gentle, nervous, maybe lonely? She wasn’t sure; but, as she exited the tattoo parlor on a tender ankle and with a far off look, she decided she might like to find out who he really was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.rosiestdesign.co.uk/img/black-rose.png  
> Here, have a look at the image of what I think Belle's first tattoo looks like!

**Author's Note:**

> This work is open to prompts- find me on tumblr at hedwighood. All comments and kudos appreciated :-)


End file.
